Bloodstained Aging
by WishesintheNightSky
Summary: "Harry Potter looked into the crimson eyes that he once knew to be a perfect gray, and the euphoria he had felt at finally finding the silvery blond boy that had disappeared from his life so long ago quickly died down. Those eyes belonged to a monster."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Whoa. Okay, I haven't posted anything in months, and I've deleted a few of my stories. That is because those stories will both be rewritten, as my writing style has changed over these the past half-year, and I'd like to showcase that. I shall have the first couple of chapters for Pain Only Lasts a Long While and Regrets of a Timeless Past up as soon as I can, but in the meantime, here's a new story to keep you satisfied, previous readers of mine. New readers of mine, well, just disregard this author's note. ;D  
><strong>

**Title: Blood-Stained Aging**

**Author: WishesintheNightSky  
><strong>

**Rating: M**

**Genre: Horror/Romance**

**Pairing: Harry/Draco, bits of Ron/Hermione here and there. Hints of Draco/several OC's everywhere. Blegh. Confusing. xP  
><strong>

**Summary: A vampire. Creatures of temptation, always giving in to the desire of blood. With deathly pale skin and red eyes that glowed, they taunted you before they aimed for the kill. And as Harry Potter stared into the fiery eyes of what was left of his schoolyard rival, he feared for his life.**

**Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of rape (though not explicit), slash (boyxboy love), foul language, vampirism, stubborn&immature!Harry, badass!Draco, and pure sexual content ahead.~ Don't read while eating. Please.**

**A/N2: Hey, I'm kinda in the need of a beta. =/ I think that my old one disappeared, since she hasn't really been responding to any of my e-mails lately. ;-; So just pm me if you'd like to be mine.~~ Lolz.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; J.K. Rowling has _that_ honor. I only have Draco Malfoy locked up in my basement because I'm borrowing him...  
><strong>

**Sorry about the unwarned POV changes. I just don't like saying whose POV it is every single time.**

* * *

><p><strong>~*<span>Preface<span>*~**

He could smell the metallic tang that wafted off of the man who was luring him in's lips, the color of the flesh crimson; blood-stained. His breathing was coming out in harsh pants, his consciousness painfully aware of the dread that he knew was muddled in his dilated pupils. Permanently widened eyes shifted back and forth, from the eerie glow of the man's fiery red irises that flashed an almost unreal silver every so often, to the deadly fangs that were shown only slightly by the smile that was on his mouth. _Don'tkillmedon'tkillmedon'tkillme_, he chanted mentally, though he knew that his efforts were wasted on the danger that was keeping him trapped against the cold brick wall.

"Do you know what I am, Ryan?" the man purred, the sound so...so _erotic_, but **twice**as fear-inducing. He wanted to run, run as fast as his legs could take him, but he knew all too well that it would be entirely futile. The man would only snare him within his clutches once more, that being the only thing he was sure of at the moment.

He licked his chapped lips, moistening the cracked skin, before speaking for the first time since he'd been locked up in the man's arms.

"Y-y-eah." He hated himself for the way his voice shook with tremors, loathing the way he radiated such brokenness in his own mind. He averted his frightened, yet defiant gaze, choosing instead to stare at the trash cans that stood yards away.

The man cocked his head, long silvery blond hair falling to one side of his face. The innocent pretense that the man was faking almost made Ryan laugh mockingly. He didn't, though, feeling a sudden tightening of his throat that made him gulp down hard in a pathetic attempt to take away the dryness.

"Really? What am I, then?"

The man smirked then, a curl of the lip that showed more of his sharp teeth. The sight was starting to become more and more vicious-looking with every second that passed.

"**V-v-vampire**," Ryan croaked out, with a hoarseness that hadn't been there before. There were sobs that threatened to escape from him, to his immense disdain. Why did this man have to make him feel so weak? So helpless; defenseless?

"Good boy," the man cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice that sent shivers up his spine. "not many of your kind have the wits to even _pronounce_the word aloud." He sneered the last part out, before swooping down, and running his nose along the length of Ryan's exposed neck.

"Mmm, you smell absolutely _delicious_, Ryan," he crooned. "Like the finest wine, that I yearn to taste_ so_badly." The blond stranger swiped a delicate pink tongue that Ryan could see out of the corner of his eye over his collarbone, the feel of the smooth wetness making him tremble with a sudden flare of desire that he only just realized consciously with a sinking horror.

Ryan could feel the man smirk against his neck, and he then immediately knew that the creature could smell his arousal. The embarrassment that crept into his veins made him clench his fists tightly, tendons whitening on his knuckles.

"Don't be embarrassed, love." A feral grin overtook the man's face. He moved until his mouth was directly at Ryan's ear, and spoke gently, the warm breath making Ryan flush deeply with a sense of lust that he couldn't resist giving in to. "This will be very pleasurable." a pause, "Well, just for **me**, perhaps." he drawled, a devious glint lighting up an already glowing red.

Just as the man was about to sink his fangs through his flesh, Ryan made a noise of protest. The vampire drew back slowly, almost reluctantly, raising a slender eyebrow questioningly at the mortal he had cornered. Chewing on his lower lip nervously, uncertainty misted into Ryan's eyes as he carefully asked one last question.

"Before you kill me," a sharp intake of breath here, "can I at least know your name?"

A deathly pale hand brushed a lock of tangled light brown hair out of the mortal's forehead, the edge of his lips twitching in obvious amusement at the human's foolishness. Staring down into cautious green eyes that reminded him faintly of someone he once knew in a past life, though, he decided to...indulge the boy. One victim that knew his name up there in the clouds, or wherever death took those whose hearts had stopped beating, was hardly a threat to rave about. Nipping at the one who had been so unfortunate as to come across him's throat, he whispered his birth name into skin that was salty, with beads of sweat rolling down its length.

"_Draco Malfoy_."

Ryan absentmindedly noted that the vampire's surname translated into '_bad faith_' in French, releasing a faint, weak chuckle at the irony before he felt unbearable pain course throughout his body. It started at his pulse point, and spread through his veins. A scream was torn from him, and he convulsed at the horrifying stimulation that racked his body. Before his world faded into a bleak nothingness, the last thing he could see was the crimson that still tainted the beautiful danger's temptation-ridden mouth.

**Chapter One**

Draco frowned as he heard footsteps trailing behind him, his silver grey orbs flickering toward the sound. He halted in his tracks, turning his head toward the crunching snow. But the moment he looked, the steps stopped, the snow wasn't crunching anymore, and there was absolutely nothing he could see in the expanse besides the rows of stores in Hogsmeade from which he had only just come from. Eyes narrowing with suspicion, he pursed his petal pink lips before curling his gloved hands to wrap his coat tighter around himself as the chilly breeze picked up.

"Fuckin' Merlin, how the hell is it so damn cold out in September?" he growled out, swearing violently as he unsuccessfully tried to keep the wind from mussing his shoulder length blond hair with his clothed arms. The action only served to make the locks stick up even further, static clinging to the strands. His chest heaved at the frustrated groan he released then, mumbles of complaint muttered under his breath as he stuffed his covered fingers into the pockets of his black trousers.

A faint, masculine chuckle reached his ears. Frozen, Draco did his best not to start panicking so soon. But there was just absolutely _no_ way that he could have only imagined that. Whipping around, he shifted his eyes in every direction, but the shadow that seemed to be stalking him still didn't enter his line of sight. Letting out a nervous laugh, sounding slightly hysterical, his widened eyes moved with the speed of a pinball, desperately trying to find the man that he could have sworn had occupied an empty space near him only a moment ago.

"W-w-who's there?"

He stumbled over his words, though barely noticing that he had let a quiver of fear slip into his tone, too anxious to even care about the Malfoy manners that his mother and father had drilled into him as he tried to figure out his current predicament.

A cruel laugh echoed in the quiet, making him shudder at crazed edge that accompanied the sound.

Before he could even blink, he suddenly found himself looking at what appeared to be a ragged, old man; an odd situation, too, considering the fact that Draco had been staring at a vacant area less than two seconds ago.

Quickly regaining his composure, though still looking a bit shaken, Draco felt a vague sense of nausea as he took in the man's appearance. A gaunt, sunken face that was scattered with bruises and scars, sandy brown hair that looked as though someone had gone insane with a cutting charm, tattered clothing that had various rips and tears throughout, and a dreadful odor that made the Malfoy heir pinch his nose in an attempt to block out the smell. But what made Draco tremble slightly in undisguised alarm, were the two blood-red gems that the man had for eyes, luminescent in the dark of night.

A line from a book that he had recently read about dark creatures flooded into his mind, despite the fact that Draco was sure he hadn't even paid attention to any of the words inside of the thick work.

_"Vampires; creatures of the night that survive off of any blood that they can find, hence the crimson shade that their eyes hold."_

A filthy smile pulled at the man's lips, and Draco felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. Clutching the school bag that had been swung around his shoulder, the boy bit his tongue to keep from screaming as he started to run the other way, away from the man with the threatening eyes. But his feet weren't nearly as fast as the immortal was. In the span of a heartbeat, the man was in front of him once more, and Draco couldn't hold back the undignified yelp he let out at the sudden movement.

A sadistic chortle rumbled low in the man's throat, and a flash of yellow teeth caught Draco's eye, who was trying his hardest not to let the dirty creature catch his revulsion. The immortal one obviously noticed, though, judging by the dark smile that immediately stretched across the nomad's scum-polluted face. His grubby fingers reached out to stroke the blond's baby-soft cheek, in a falsely gentle way that made him unable to hide the surge of hatred that came into his eyes like a burning fire.

Slapping away the vampire's hand, Draco snarled as he ground out vehement words.

"Don't touch me, you monstrosity."

This only seemed to make the urchin chuckle. Draco gripped his bag even tighter.

"Feisty, eh?" a grimy grin, "I like feisty."

Then pain came, and screams that he was sure were his own sounded through the night, and Draco Malfoy felt his consciousness about to fly away. Clawing at the man's foul clothing, he heard desperate pleas coming from him rapidly, though he knew that it was unfitting of a Malfoy to beg.

_Screw the damn rules!_ his mind screamed.

Amidst tears of suffering, his stomach churned as he felt animalistic instincts fogging up his brain. He didn't register that his hands had stopped scratching at the inhumane one's body, or even that he no longer felt any twinges of agony. All he could focus on was the warmth that flooded his mouth, filling him with a hunger that wouldn't stop. The last paragraph of the page that Draco was still sure that he never paid attention to streaked across his thoughts.

_"Vampires may choose to turn their prey if they wish, but the process is painful, and requires the victim to willingly share blood with the predator."_

And then, there was pitch-black darkness shrouding him.

* * *

><p><strong>Well? Was it okay? Review and tell me your thoughts, and whether or not I should continue. (: <strong>

**P.S. This would have been wayyy longer, but I figured that the part I had wanted to put in this chapter would fit far better into chapter two. Soo...yeah. ANYWAYS, reviews are love. So you better click that button down there. ;)  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hola, there. (: If you're reading this, then I thank you for deciding that this story was okay enough to actually keep reading on. I don't really like my writing, even if everyone else says they're pretty good. LIARS, all of them. **

**A/N2: I'm kind of disappointed right now. My traffic says that over 200 of you have read this story so far, and none have of you reviewed. =( Thanks to the 4 people that put this on story alert, though.**

**Title: Blood-Stained Aging **

**Rating: M**

**Genre: Horror/Romance**

**Pairing: Harry/Draco, bits of Ron/Hermione here and there. Hints of Draco/several OC's everywhere. Blegh. Confusing. xP**

**Summary: A vampire. Creatures of temptation, always giving in to the desire of blood. With deathly pale skin and red eyes that glowed, they taunted you before they aimed for the kill. And as Harry Potter stared into the fiery eyes of what was left of his schoolyard rival, he feared for his life.**

**Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of rape (though not explicit), slash (ie. boyxboy love), foul language, vampirism, stubborn&immature!Harry, badass!Draco, and pure sexual content ahead.~ Don't read while eating. Please.**

**UNBETA-ED. WIP. **

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series. I'm only borrowing Draco for a small while. **

**Sorry about the unwarned POV changes, if there are ever any. I just don't like saying whose POV it is every single time I switch it up.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

The first thing Draco saw when he woke up was pure white.

_'I'm in heaven, aren't I?'_he mused, propping his elbows up against something that felt incredibly soft. Glancing down, his suspicions seemed to be confirmed. He was lying down on a white bed, with one white pillow, covered by a thin, white satin sheet, in silk white pajamas that knew weren't his.

_Just a bit too much white..._

He let out a soft chuckle at that thought. It sounded hoarse and horribly unused to his ears.

Lifting his gaze, he looked around the room, and the decor only served to prove him right. He was surely in heaven, seeing as the walls were painted a delicate eggshell white. Standing beside the bed he lay in was a white dresser, with four wooden drawers that had been smoothed over with a white gloss. On top of it was a white vase, filled with a bouquet of white roses. The stems were hidden by the container, but he would just assume that they were white as well, based on what he had seen so far. Hell, the floor was probably a shade of white, too.

He craned his neck to peek at the floor.

Yep. That was white as well. A lovely ivory; freshly waxed, according to the sleek shine the lighting gave it.

Hearing the familiar sound of a door creaking, he whipped his head toward the sudden noise. An elderly lady stood at the doorway, her face pinched with wrinkles of worry as she took in the sight of him. Her lips pursed, and her eyes, which were a fascinating cross between a common sky blue and an odd lavender colour, flashed with something that he wasn't able to decipher. Silent footsteps snuck across the room, and then she was standing right beside him, her shadow blocking the brightness that had crept into the room the second she'd opened the door.

Draco reckoned that she was an angel, here to welcome him into the land of God, which he faintly remembered learning about during a lesson in Muggle Studies. She certainly looked the part. Her attire consisted of a simple white nightgown that stopped just above her feet, which adorned two white slippers. Her white hair, which was streaked with grey and silver, (from old age, he supposed) was tied up into a tight bun, no signs of any stray hairs anywhere. Her stern expression somehow made him reconsider asking if she had wings hiding within her back, though. He'd heard that angels were pure, and sickeningly sweet. This woman only made him feel as though he were about to get scolded by his once living grandmother. Well, the one that had actually liked him, anyway.

A tray that he hadn't noticed before settled onto his lap, and he absentmindedly noticed that it was silver. _Different_, he thought.

The kitchenware spread out on top of the platter were white, though, and he felt a stab of relief that came out of nowhere. White meant that he was in heaven. If he saw otherwise, his metaphorical bubble would burst.

A hushed voice cut through his idle thoughts, and he slowly lifted his head up to stare blankly at the lady who was now perched on the edge of the comfortable bed.

"You'd best eat your food before it gets cold," she told him quietly.

Blinking once, he regarded her for a moment longer, and then his eyes were silently judging what was on the tray.

In a small bowl that he imagined was too fragile to handle, was a ladleful of what he guessed was a plain chicken broth. On the plate right next to it, was a single cottage loaf that had been torn in half. An empty teacup waited to be filled by a ceramic kettle, whose spout was facing the cup, ready to pour warmth. Everything was freshly made, he could tell from the steam that wafted out of all of the food. It was either that, or the angel had used a warming charm. And he doubted that the people in heaven were witches and wizards; after all, heaven was a muggle belief, wasn't it?

Draco ignored the whisper inside of him that sounded suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy, that asked him what on Earth he would be doing in a muggle afterlife. He was still blissfully unaware of what was happening at the moment.

The blond stretched his hand out to lift up the white spoon that was set beside the soup bowl, but instead let out an undignified yelp that he would later deny ever making. His fingers trembled, and he brought the hand closer, toward his face.

_Pale_. The word immediately came into mind. _**Deathly** pale_.  
>And it was.<p>

The back of his hand looked as though someone had put too much powder on it, its shading the color of a sickly and ashen white.

It reminded him of the image of a corpse he had seen once; back when he was younger, and didn't know much better. The body had been still at his father's feet, curly brown hair spread out around her face, lips blue from the cold. Her arms were at her sides, palms facing upward, blood trickling from her fingers. A black wand was pointing directly at the spot where her heart was, in the grip of leather gloves.

Draco had watched that scene with wide, naive eyes, but for only a moment. Then, blanking out his expression as his father had been teaching him to do ever since he couldn't even speak, he had shut the door to the sitting room quietly. His feet had led him back to his own room, where he then fell asleep, dreaming of a bright green light that shone with a malicious intent, and a brunette woman who looked far too pale to be living. He never did find out whether or not Lucius had known he was there, nor had he ever once thought to ask.

Taking a shaky breath of air, he dropped his arms back to his sides, clenching his fists tightly. He wouldn't think about that. Instead, his eyes travelled back to his skin.

Pale. Pale_pale__**pale**. _The word resounded once more, like an echo. What had happened to him?

Glancing up, he looked at the woman once more. Her eyes were shining with pity and sympathy. But for _what? _He couldn't remember anything. The last thing that recalled doing was walking out of the apothecary that was situated in Hogsmeade during the first weekend that they'd been allowed out for the school year, and heading toward-...

...Wait.

_A man with rags. An evil smile that sent a pang of fear coursing through him. A dirty hand stroking his cheek with mock care. **Pain.**_

_**_"Vampires may choose to turn their prey if they wish, but the process is painful, and requires the victim to willingly share blood with the predator."_**_

__Sweet warmth rushing through his mouth. Euphoria. Temptation. Want. Need. **Blood.**__

He sat up sharply as the realization sunk in. The stranger, who he'd recognized as a nomad vampire, had fuckin' sucked his blood, and had the nerve to share his own in return!

Emitting a low growl that he hadn't known he could make, he moved his hand to his neck. His fingertips grazed over the marks of what felt like two crescent moons right over his pulse point.

There was the sound of something shattering over to his left.

Turning his head, he watched as water trickled through the shards of the broken white vase that had once been a place for the white roses, which were now resting against the opposite wall, on the ground.

He'd been wrong about the stems. They were a dark green, with green thorns, and green leaves. The petals that had separated from one another were scattered along the floor now, blending in with the ivory.

Draco stood up quietly, deliberately. He could feel the woman's eyes on him as he walked over to the oval mirror with the white frame that stood on a table on one side of the room. Looking at his reflection, he sighed with relief as the theory that vampires couldn't see themselves in a mirror was proven wrong. Taking a closer look, he noticed that there were absolutely no physical changes to his body.

_"Turned animalia retain every physical part of their mortal selves, i.e. hair length and colour will remain the same, as will height, and weight. The only noticeable physical change will be in eye colour. The irises will be that of a dark crimson, the one true mark that a vampire bears." _

The sentence from the book flashed through his mind, just like when he'd met the nomad who had turned him. And true to its words, his eyes were a bright red, making his skin seem even more paler than it already was, which had seemed a rather impossible task only five seconds ago. His lips parted in a silent gasp, and it exposed the slightest hint of the elongated fangs that he had for teeth.

Draco watched as a tear fell from his left eye, trailing down his cheek. The pads of his fingers brushed over it, and he looked at the wetness that on his fingertips with something akin to surprise. He hadn't realized that a monster could have the heart to cry. After all, that's what he was now, right? A monster that survived off of human blood? A demon that came from a pits of hell? A **monster**?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To be honest with you, I really have no plans for this story. I'm just going with the flow, and writing whatever I'm in the mood for. As you can see, I was definitely in a colour-y mood when I wrote this chapter. That's why I focused on that type of thing for this. The warnings up at the beginning, though, I do know are going to happen. But any advice/ideas for a plot/storyline from you guys would be absolutely amazing. (: So just PM me if you have something like that in mind. **


End file.
